


Conundrums

by xxPearlescentxx



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-10 01:17:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5563183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxPearlescentxx/pseuds/xxPearlescentxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, the sincerest of romances can feel like solving a rubik's cube.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! This is my first attempt at posting an RPF, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Despite this being an RPF, all personalities are simply for story purposes and are not meant to imply anything about the actual character of any of these people in real life.

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Tomorrow, the holiday Tom had been attempting for years would finally begin. 

But first, this party.

It had been privately organized by Steven Spielberg himself, and if Tom didn't manage to speak with the man tonight, Luke would have his balls on a platter.

Spending the past few minutes pining certainly wasn't helping the matter.

She had wafted into his conversation with Emma Watson with a quietly confident self-assurance and a mischevious glimmer in her eye. When she had stolen Emma away a few minutes later, the scent of her long locks had sealed the deal.

But now he needed to come back to himself.

Especially as she was barely aware that he existed.

As softly as he could, he took a deep breath and attempted to re-engage in the party. Upcoming holiday or no, tonight it was immensely important that he speak to his host. Rumor had it that Spielberg had thrown this little fete to circulate a new project for the fall.

And of course in Hollywood, Spielberg rumors were treated as fact. Everyone was keen to take part, regardless of the havoc such short notice would wreak on their schedules.

"Tom!" If the rough American clip hadn't been enough to get his attention, the arm on his shoulder certainly was. "What do you think? I'll send my script to your agent next week, and you can tell me if you like it, eh? Or, if you 'fancy' it, right? Did I tell you we're going to be filming in London again?"

He registered that it was, in fact, Steven Spielberg talking in his direction and gave the man a beaming smile. It was even genuine, as he was happy to have finally found them in the crowded room. 

"Erm, fancy it, yes. I'll have Luke keep a lookout for it, I'm certain it will be fantastic," he answered, quickly assessing the group surrounding the director. "Can I get you gentlemen a round of Guinness?"

As he turned toward the bar Emma caught his eye and threw him a wink.

She was still chatting with that woman.

He let out a breath as he got the barkeep's attention. Because despite having already sternly told himself that Spielberg's film was far more important than a date prospect, a rush of relief ran over him. He could definitely talk Emma into sharing a mobile number.

The next desperate hope -- and very nearly a far-fetched one, if that delectable American accent was anything to go by -- was that she was based in London. Although he thought that there was slightly more chance of it that evening, considering the number of British actors who had responded to the director's summons.

Speaking of those British actors, the density at Spielberg's table had increased by two bodies before he returned with drinks.

"Hiddleston!" Fassbender called, opening his arms in a friendly greeting. Regardless, Tom saw the Irishman's eyes narrow as he noted the drinks tray.

"Mates! Sorry, I didn't see you there a minute ago!" Tom offered, setting the tray in the center table as he shook Fassbender's and Ben's hands.

"Ah, not to worry, we're drunk already!" Fassbender said with faux joviality, pointing towards their half-finished drinks. "Come and join the party!"

"Cheers, gentlemen," Ben put in with a bit more panache, giving them all an opportunity to gloss over the evening's inherent competition. No doubt there were sharp eyes on all of them tonight. And while Ben was a dear friend, Tom wouldn't mind Fassbender making a tit of himself.

Despite the extra company, Tom was thrilled to find himself settled next to the director.

Or perhaps pulled in was a better description. It seemed that Spielberg was actually rather eager to get and keep his attention. Tom certainly wasn't about to argue.

"Tom, listen," the legend began, leaning in to his ear. "I hear from your PA that your summer's still open. Is that true?"

"Ah, yes, sir, yes it is," Tom answered, carefully keeping the wariness out of his voice.

"Great, kid. Listen, don't spread the word yet, but I'm thinking of moving production up on this. I'm glad to hear you're available."

Well, there were his holiday plans going tits up for the third year running.

"I'm glad to be available, sir."

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"Well done, mate," Luke announced, slapping a heavy binder onto his desk. "Five-hundred pages of Spielburg genius right there, waiting for your perusal. Emma's got one as well. I'm proud as a mother hen."

The expression made Tom throw his head back, tongue between his teeth as he erupted in giggles. "It's just an audition script, mate. He hasn't handed me the part!"

"No, no," his publicist corrected. "Do you know how hard it is to get your hands on even a part of this script? He's keeping the pool as small as possible! And he's sent you the whole thing! Emma's only got two-hundred pages in hers."

"Really? He just plucked me out of the crowd and told me he was sending it."

Luke beamed. "Mother hen."

Tom laughed again. "Emma's got one too, eh? We should go out for some celebratory drinks."

He had never seen Luke's face turn so quickly. "Absolutely not. Do. Not. Jinx. This."

"Right, right, sorry, mate," Tom placated. He hadn't been expecting Luke's superstitious side to make a sudden appearance, but he supposed that now was as good a time as any. "No jinxing. I'm off to break a leg as we speak."

Luke gave him a look. "Good. Now, we originally had this tentatively schedulled for August, Spielberg's moved it up to May. If you nail this part, it shouldn't interfere with your month-long contract in Istanbul. Then I can simply keep the original August to October slot relatively clear for your vacation time--"

"Wait," he frowned, thinking back on the night that had, admittedly, gotten a bit fuzzy round the middle. He should know better than to attempt keeping up with Ben and Fassbender, but he was absolutely certain that he hadn't seen Emma near Spielberg all night. "How did Emma get a script?"

"She works with Spielburg's niece--"

"Nepotism," Tom attempted to cut in seriously, but there was a teasing lilt to his voice.

"--who apparently thinks she'd be perfect for the female lead," Luke finished, ignoring him. "There are only a handful being seen for each part, but that can only mean you'll nail your auditions--"

"Ji-nx-inggggggggg!" Tom sang with a smile.

The publicist rolled his eyes at Tom's giant grin, jabbing a finger at the binder. "Your audition's at the end of the week, so don't waste any time. Study your part. I'll talk to you in a few days."

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	2. Chapter 2

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Tom Hiddleston very much considered himself a poised man.

He was generally cool, calm, collected, all of the reasonable and attractive adjectives that began with 'C.' In fact, he was planning on being all those things at that very moment, if he hadn't been thrown for such a loop to see her again.

After Emma had denied him her number -- an act of misplaced trust that he had difficulty forgiving -- he had consigned himself to the fact that he would never see her again.

He had been wrong.

And, at that precise moment, Tom couldn't decide whether he was terrified or absolutely mortified to be so close to her while auditioning. 

Regardless, he made a mental note to send Emma a thank-you gift. Because there were only so many people in this room, and chatting any of them up at the party would have cost him this role.

"Tom! Glad you made it!" Spielberg announced, rising from his plush seat and waving his arms about the room. "You know Bob and Anna already," he indicated his associate producer and casting director. Then he laid a hand on her shoulder and Tom mentally crossed his fingers. "And this is my niece, Adi. She's my assistant director on his project."

Niece. Good, niece, he could deal with niece.

He plastered a professional smile on his face and offered a handshake to everyone in the room. "Lovely to see you all again."

Spielberg's chest puffed with pride. "She's usually too busy for me, but we've managed to snag her time for this one."

"My uncle is too kind." Adi smiled, but Tom sensed that it was professionally put on, just as his own had been. "I'm thrilled to be here, of course. Who could say no to this script?"

Bob and Anna chorused an agreement, and Spielberg smiled. "Well, let's get to reading the part, then?"

Forty minutes and three scenes later, he was bowed out of the room with smiles all around. He was both relieved and disappointed. 

It had been some time since a woman had been able to affect him this way, and to be quite honest, he was annoyed. She had no right, really, to take up so much room in his head when he had barely met her.

Absolutely no right.

Add the fact that, if all went well, she would be his new boss. Hardly professional, he decided. Even if Cupid had finally turned the bow on him, Tom couldn't help thinking that the timing was awful.

Perhaps the flying chit was drunk.

"Tom!" He turned to see Anna trotting down the hall after him, waving her mobile. "Excuse us," she apologized with a smile, "We were all so taken with your performance that we forgot to give you the details of the callbacks!"

"Oh! Oh, of course, I'd very much like those," he said with a smile, hoping that she wasn't about to offer him her number. Despite all warnings to the contrary, the most optomistic part of his brain was attempting to suss out how to successfully date Spielberg's niece. He could already say with certainty that there should be no sort of triangular intrigue involved.

None, whatsoever.

Fortunately, that didn't seem to be on her mind. "I know we've called you all in for a preliminary read this week, but we'll actually be picking the female lead first, she is the true center of the story."

"Right, right, of course," he mumbled along, glancing down at the schedule on her mobile screen. She had the whole week blocked out with the names of various British actresses, a few of whom he rather hoped he wouldn't have to snog. Emma, for example, would be absolutely bonkers. She felt like a sister, and in fact was younger than his.

"And while you've obviously put a lot of great work into the character already, we'll do a second chemistry screen test next week. I can't get you the exact day yet, but it will be sometime between the 6th and 9th, so if you could keep space for us in your schedule."

"Of course, I'll let my PA know," Tom said with a smile, just in time for Adi to poke her head around the corner.

"Oh good, you caught him!" She smiled as Anna turned to her.

"Yeah, yeah, I was just telling him to keep the week of the 6th free--"

"Oh, he's decided to just call it the 9th," Adi interrupted with another smile. "You know how he likes to err on the side of caution."

Anna laughed, "Can't argue, that's how he keeps his productions on time!"

Tom joined in the polite laughter and pulled his own mobile out, simply for something to do. He shot a quick text off to Luke of the dates.

"Well, that was all, Tom," Anna told him, Adi confirming with a nod. "So we'll see you in a few days."

Tom found himself affecting a rather embarrassing half-bow, and, even more embarrassing, quoting Shakespeare to this woman. Or rather, these women, as he had thankfully had enough cognizance left to direct it to both of them. "Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again!"

Adi smiled politely but was clearly a deer caught in the headlights. Anna rolled her eyes and teased, "Thursday, Tom. We'll meet again next Thursday."

They gave him a final wave as he turned, mentally berating himself for being so....dorky.

No, she had no right to take up such space in his mind that it wasn't truly working properly. But of course, that didn't change the fact that she had, regardless of whether her presence was welcome.

Best to let this infatuation go. One way or another, he would be moving back to London soon enough. His hometown would be just the distraction he needed.

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"I just think you should seriously consider this assistant producer offer," Tom said into his mobile, dropping the pretense of subtlety. He was anxious to push his sister toward the behind the scenes aspect of filming where she had a better prospect of career longevity. The acting industry was always harder on women, and, at thirty-three years old, Emma had yet to make her big break.

He fully understood and supported her love of acting, but all her work would be for nothing if she kept taking bit parts until she was too old to play the bimbo. A better-rounded resume would help her build a much more successful career, on either side of the camera.

And after weeks of English hinting, he decided to just come out with his opinion on this brilliant job she had been offered. Those trips to America were finally rubbing off on him, he supposed.

"Look, I understand what you're thinking, Tom--"

"Em, you'll be assistant producer! You'll have access to every part of filming--that's an excellent job for anyone in film."

"Yes, you know you have a point there," she allowed, the patience in her voice started to sound strained.

"Em, it's just the one job. Take it for me, see if you like it."

"Tom..."

"Even if you don't, it'll look fantastic on your resume," he repeated, crossing his fingers, legs, and eyes for good measure. "I mean, Joanna Hogg is directing!"

A long-suffering sigh came through the mobile. "Yes, I know how you love her. One job."

"That's all I'm asking," he promised earnestly, fingers and legs still crossed. He'd had to give up on the eyes before they stuck that way.

"Fine. I'll phone right now. One job, Tom, just to test the waters."

He had just rung off with her when his mobile lit up with another Emma.

Watson.

Now she had been lucky enough to become a household name--no one would dare scoff at her age for the entirety of what was sure to be a lifelong career.

"Cheers," he answered, switching to speaker as he fiddled about making a fresh cuppa.

"Tom! I got the part!"

He was stunned silent for a moment before his manners kicked in. "Yeah, well done, congratulations, darling."

"Thanks, thank you so much!" She gushed through the speaker, "I can't believe I'm going to be the lead in a Spielberg film! And I just thought, that maybe we could run lines together, if you can make some time in the next week."

"Darling, I haven't got the part, my callback's Thursday," he reminded gently.

"Yes, I know," she answered chidingly, as if he should regard that as no hindrance to running lines. "But honestly I'm hoping for you, it would be so much easier to get this intimate with someone I already know."

Ah, yes. The, erm, involved snogging that he had rather been hoping he wouldn't have to do with Emma.

"And like," she added. "Already know and like."

"Still not a fan of Ben's?" Tom chuckled as he poured milk into his mug.

"He's practically my father."

"He's only five years older than me, darling."

"Yes, but you wouldn't think it," she laughed. "Please Tom? Run lines with me, I'm hoping we can get the chemistry right. Besides, you know Luke kept all that time open in your schedule this year--"

"It was meant to be an overdue vacation," he cut in, though he already knew, given the choice between holiday and role, he would always take the role.

He heard her gasp sharply and became suddenly aware of how spoilt he sounded.

He knew that he was impossibly blessed to still be receiving amazing offers. Beside which, Spielberg was directing.

He did love Spielberg.

And even before that, Emma was a good friend who asked for his help.

"Will you still be in LA this weekend, darling?" He asked as sweetly as he could, trying to make up for his earlier tone. "How does tea this Saturday sound to you?"

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	3. Chapter 3

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"Deep breaths, Emma."

He heard her struggling to comply as he soothed her, doing his best not to look around as furtively as Luke was.

"Come on, darling, inhale," he took a deep breath with her to keep time, "And exhale."

A few more slow breaths and her flush started to fade, her chest started to settle back into a more reasonable rhythm, and her eyes lost their frightened look.

"He is just a man, darling, and he liked you already," Tom reminded, continuing to coax her down from her sudden anxiety. Emma's face had been in the popular consciousness so long that it was easy to forget how young she was. And she was so well-loved around the world, that it was easy to forget most of her dealings had been in the relatively relaxed London sphere. A name like Steven Spielberg still had the ability to ignite her nerves.

"Right...sorry, just...right, just...collecting myself..."

"Of course, darling, no need to worry," Tom encouraged, patting her back gently.

"We're both right here, remember," Luke contributed, finally turning from his constant scan of the door. Tom knew why when he saw Spielberg round the corner with Adi.

He found himself taking a breath to steel his own nerves. Despite having the last two weeks in London to relax and let go of this ill-advised infatuation, he still had a few flutters making their way around his belly.

"You won't be carrying the conversation yourself, darling," Luke reassured her with one last pat to the back before he stood. He shook Spielberg's hand first, leaving Tom to take Adi's. "Enchanted to see you again."

She gave him a polite, but somewhat uncomfortable, smile before turning to the rest of the party, and leaving him to feel that he'd overdone it once again.

"So, you all know Adi is my First Assistant Director on this project," Spielberg began when they had sat down to starters. "But she also has some great perceptions about character motives and I wanted you two to get a chance to discuss with her before filming."

"That sounds like an excellent idea," Luke put in, producing a diary as he turned to Adi herself, "Should I schedule in more time?"

"Well, today will only be an introductory chat, I'm sure," she told him, her voice smooth and certain. "We'll need a few hours before filming starts."

Most of Tom's mind understood that character discussions were a normal part of working with excellent directors. But there was a small bit, the bit that he had already scolded several times about the perils of fancying his boss, which was happy at the thought of individual time with her. And that bit, eager to impress, brought up his thoughts on the main motivation of his character and how it influenced his treatment of Emma's. 

He shot Emma an encouraging smile every now and again, but she seemed to do perfectly well now that characters were being dissected.

For that matter, Tom noticed that Adi was relishing the general conversation. Apparently her unease was reserved only for private exchanges with him.

"So, Tom," Spielberg called his attention from that thought, "How's Ben doing? I hear he's up to no good."

Tom laughed gleefully. "He's just gotten back from a second honeymoon in Barbados, I'd wager they got themselves into some trouble there."

Emma laughed at the thought. "Ben getting into trouble? No such thing!"

"Oh, sweet kid," Spielberg chuckled, "It's hard for you to imagine, but we used to be young once."

"A very long time ago," Adi chimed in, distracting him while stealing escargot from his plate. She winked at Emma, "Don't let my uncle fool you, he hasn't done anything interesting in decades."

Tom ventured a smile at her, and was pleasantly surprised when her answering smile held no trace of discomfort.

Most of his mind told him not to read into it. The last bit broke into its happy dance.

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Normally being home in London meant going for tea in the afternoon. He would settle in the corner of the corner shop -- he quite enjoyed the silliness of the wordplay, as well as the comfort of being ensconced -- with an Earl Grey and his script, studying up on his character. He had invested hours into this man, had attempted to wring every ounce of complexity from the words on the page.

Unfortunately today he was having an excessively hard time concentrating.

Which was why he was sitting in a coffee shop, trying to focus.

He had needed stronger stuff, after his session with Adi. She was becoming a paradox to him, always charming, witty, downright vivacious in a group -- or even with other individuals, he had noticed, but he swore he wasn't watching her that often -- and yet she always looked uncomfortable when he attempted to address her directly.

Even today, as he had consciously not flirted to spare her the embarrassment, she seemed to manufacture her own. Twenty particularly confusing seconds ended with her bookshelf on the floor.

Regardless of his efforts to be decidedly unflirtatious, he had to wonder if she somehow sensed his attraction, despite knowing that she was his boss.

In his defense, she was bloody gorgeous.

What he wouldn't give to press his mouth against hers, or anywhere on her body, really, he wasn't particularly picky--

"Sorry, mate," the bus boy said, bringing him back to reality with a heavy splash on his script.

He waved him off, pulling his napkins out to salvage what he could. He was just debating the merits of reprinting a clean one for presentation purposes when his phone trilled from his pocket.

"Tom!" Luke's voice garbled through the speaker, "Listen, mate, I'm a bit busy today but I wanted to be sure you're ready for tomorrow."

"As ready as I'll be, I suppose," he answered, thumbing through the worn, and now coffee-splattered, pages. "Call time is still eleven for me, then?"

"Erm...yes," Luke answered, and Tom shook his head as he heard the shuffle of papers over the phone. Luke insisted that paper diaries were unhackable, and would shuffle about with them constantly. The iPhone that he had been gifted a few years prior was only consulted for daily scheduling outside the "Danger Zone."

In other words, he only pulled it out for appearances. And actual phone calls.

"Hey, listen, mate," Luke started again with more confidence, "Do me a favor and watch out for Emma--"

"Of course, Luke."

"She seemed fine on the phone today, but she might be on edge again tomorrow, perfectly understandable, really..."

Tom allowed him to ramble on, thinking about the situation. He was entirely confident in Emma, but being intimidated on the first day of proper shooting was certainly understandable. Hell, he had developed a fledgling friendship with Spielberg on War Horse, and he was still nervous to do well tomorrow.

"I'll take care of her, Luke," Tom cut him off in the middle of a rant about unrealistic expectations, "I'm thinking a nice breakfast together might help."

"Don't forget her call time is nine," Luke reminded.

"An early breakfast, then," he amended. "Not to worry, I will have her drunk on mimosas in time for call."

"TOM!"

Laughing wickedly as he rang off, Tom conceded that he simply wasn't going to concentrate on the script any more today. So he gave himself a mental shake, collected his things, and decided to enjoy what was left of his afternoon.

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	4. Chapter 4

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The following morning's breakfast went well, with Emma seeming quite pulled together. She had smiled and chatted with him all through their meal. Despite sensing her underlying nerves, he hadn't been expecting the state he found her in a few hours later.

Or rather, the state he heard she was in, while attempting to check on her.

"Breathe, Emma, it's not as bad as all that--"

"I know that!" Emma snapped, "But that's how it feels!"

"Emma," Adi's soothing voice came through again, "My uncle has given you the part because he's seen your work and thinks you're talented. I got you an audition because I have worked with you and know that you're talented."

It occurred to him at that point that he was eavesdropping, and he really shouldn't be. 

"I know," Emma said again, clearly working to keep from snapping again. "I know that. But if I get this wrong I might never work again."

"That's not true--"

"It is! I'm only twenty-eight, I still have a whole career to build!"

"Emma, you started your career at ten. Your body of work is larger than most other actresses your own age, not to mention quite a few who are older."

Adi was dealing with this, he should really go.

"I know that! But still, this kind of thing could make or break a career!"

No, he should stay, he might be able to talk to her about these kinds of nerves, he'd had them quite often himself. His hand was on the door when he heard Adi's voice come through again.

"Then make up your mind that this will make your career, not break it," She answered, still admirably calm despite Emma's tone.

"Yes, yes, make not break," Emma answered, her voice beginning to lose some edge. "Make not break." 

"Make not break," Adi encouraged. Her voice took on a teasing tone, "And don't forget, you and I have worked together before, I know how to make you look good."

Emma let out a shuddering laugh at that. "Thank you, Adi, I really appreciate...all this."

"You're very welcome, sweetheart, I really don't mind."

"I--I need to get something to drink, and maybe a few paracetamols before the next scene--"

"Of course, I'll let you get to it," Adi answered, and he heard chairs scraping. 

Shit, he should really go now.

He ducked into another room just as he heard the door open, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Too soon, of course, because he just happened to duck into Adi's office a moment before she did.

Of all the places--still, he was an actor, dammit.

"Miss Spielberg," he bowed his head.

"You can call me Adi," she corrected, but her features were suddenly wary as she realized who was in her office.

Recognizing that he needed to pull together all his boyish charm, Tom desperately wished for his old blond curls. They had consistently saved him when he was younger. "I hope you're having a lovely morning."

"I am, thank you," she answered on autopilot, but the caution hadn't dropped from her face. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Ah, yes, actually, I'm so sorry to intrude, I was looking for Emma's dressing room--

"Why?" She interrupted sharply.

"--to run lines one last time? But I seem to have gotten lost..." He let his voice trail as he lifted his script in explanation, hoping she would take the cover story at face value.

Her expression relaxed from sharp back to wary. "She's a door over, actually. But I have to ask you not to go over there right now, she's not feeling well."

"Nothing serious?"

"She should be fine by this afternoon's set-up, headache, you know, needs some time for the painkillers to work."

"Of course, sorry again," Tom allowed, then, struck by sudden inspiration, he held out his bag full of pastries. "Can I offer you a scone to make up for it?"

She laughed lightly, but a different wariness suddenly alighted in her eyes. "Thank you, but no. I hope you enjoy them." 

He nodded his acknowledgement, satisfied that she didn't suspect his eavesdropping as he slipped out the door.

He blatantly ignored his gut's twinge at her rebuff of his sweets. Because truly, if the woman didn't like sweets, it could never work between them.

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Surprise.

Surprise was what he was experiencing.

Because when he waved a perfectly platonic hello to Adi that morning, he had not expected things to develop further. He was also not going to say no to the opportunity presented when she tripped over his admittedly over-large feet while trying to bring him a scone.

"A peace offering," she said after he helped her straighten. "I feel like I've upset you."

"Not at all, darling," he assured her, then kicked himself for using 'darling.' He reminded himself, once again, that this woman was his boss. As well as the niece of his other boss. "I apologize unreservedly for making you think that."

She let out a short giggle, and he thought for once he might have done something right.

"It's true what they say, you apologize for everything."

Scratch that, he had not done anything right. "Yes, well, English upbringing, I suppose."

"It's just that you started out so friendly and then you got distant," she explained in a rush, the words tumbling out of her mouth. It almost sounded rehearsed to his ear, and he wondered, for one glorious moment, if she had been thinking about him that long.

"I thought I was making you uncomfortable."

"No! No, not at all," she echoed, "it's just that a girl gets flustered around tall, handsome strangers."

He threw her a wink reflexively, then realized that had not been a smart reaction. Her next words confirmed it.

"And it's my policy not to flirt with the actors, unprofessional, you know."

Sobering quickly, he nodded and did his best to act as though a heavy sensation had not suddenly settled in his stomach. "Of course."

"Not that I'm saying that you were flirting," she rushed to explain, "It's just your English Charm, I know that--"

"Adi, I was absolutely flirting with you," he cut her off gently. He knew it wasn't smart to admit -- hell, he knew that he had tried his best not to flirt -- but he was utterly unable to leave this woman floundering. "I'll stop immediately, if that's what you want."

It might have been wishful thinking, but it very much looked like that was not what she wanted at all. Regardless, it was the sentiment that came out of her mouth. "Thank you, Tom. Maybe we can start again?"

"Absolutely," he said, shifting into a proper shake of her hand. "I'm Tom. Maybe we could be friends?"

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	5. Chapter 5

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Alain Ducasse was the highly exclusive french bistro of the Dorchester Hotel. 

From that alone, Tom knew that the meal would be exquisite and the conversation would be horrendous, despite the fact that he would be sharing the evening with two of his good friends.

Luke proved him correct when he reached the table at which Tom and Emma were already seated and, without preamble, threw down some rags to announce, "You two have been front page the whole week."

Ah, yes, that rather explained the choice of restaurant. There were no concerns, even with the waiter currently bustling about their drinks, that their conversation would be anything less than private. The bistro was rather fond that it's clientele consisted of A-list actors and high-ranking government officials, even the queen herself on one glorious occasion, and all staff were expected to uphold their reputation as a suitable place to discuss high profile and highly secret events. 

When Tom compared the idea of top secret government espionage to the rag romance in front of him, he felt quite silly.

"They've been hoping for this story for years now, Luke," Emma sighed, piling them neatly out of the way before returning her attention to her menu. "Surely the usual will work."

"Naturally, yes," he said, making a show of settling his napkin onto his lap. "But I needed to check that the two of you are, in fact, not dating."

"Seriously?" Emma sputtered, then seemed to remember herself. "Erm, no offense, Tom, sorry, you're really lovely--"

Tom waved her off. "No offense taken, dear, I do think of you as a sister."

"--and you know it's been nearly two years, Luke."

Tom's brow quirked at that finish. He knew that Emma didn't confide everything in him, but surely he would be privvy to significant events from the recent past?

"Yes, well, now that we have that settled," Luke said, looking satisfied that their reactions were genuine. "Onto how we want to handle this. Emma was quite right to point out that the rags have wanted this story for years--"

"And start it every time we so much as breathe in the same room," Tom put in.

"--yes, that too, because your fans love the idea."

"How do you know?" Emma asked.

Luke gave a long-suffering sigh, "You pay me to check Tumblr for you."

Tom had to let out some giggles while Emma asked again, "I don't see how this is any different from the other times, Luke."

"It's your age."

Emma looked at him, stunned. Tom found himself suddenly infuriated, but Luke spoke before he had the chance.

"At twenty-eight, you've passed into the age where you can date men twenty years your senior, and nobody will bat an eye. Add that to the fact that your fanbases are quite fond   
of this idea-- a sizable percentage is a shared fanbase, let's not forget--and you two will be taken seriously this time, if we don't act quickly. The rags will inevitably print a story about a bad break-up, which could lose supporters for both of you."

"Don't make us unnecessarily nervous, mate," Tom put in, "just tell us how quickly you need to move and what you want from us."

"Moving too quickly will give credence to the rumors, but we should put out separate statements by the end of the week. From you Tom, I just need your usual support of the idea that you and Emma are good friends. From Emma, I'm asking you to consider coming out with Ian."

"Luke--"

He held up a hand to silence her. "Nothing will be put out without your express permission. But as your advisor on these matters, I do believe it will not only put this matter with Tom to rest, but it will gain you more privacy in the long run. The idea that Hermione is still single has opened up a whole new male market for the rags. You know this is why they hound you constantly."

She fiddled with her napkin. Clearly this was not what she wanted, and Tom couldn't help but pity her. Media scrutiny could ruin a relationship, or even reveal the true colors of a fame-seeker. He'd been there, done that, and didn't want to watch Emma do it. 

"What if I got a girlfriend?"

"That will solve this between the two of you now, but that doesn't solve Emma's PR for next month. In fact, it barely solves her PR for next week."

"Alright, so it's a band-aid," Tom allowed, "but it will help for the moment, give her some more time--"

"We've been discussing this for months," Emma cut him off. Ah, so this was where her two years had gone. "The answer is no, Luke. Put out the usual 'We're Just Friends' statement."

Tom watched his PA's lips tighten into a line, but regardless he said, "Consider it done, then. I will release the statement tomorrow morning." 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Truth be told, Tom was so eager to please his director that hardly an expression crossed Spielberg's face without being caught and catalogued for later study.

So when the expressions turned from musing to contemplative, it hadn't worried him. When they turned from contemplative to pensive he became concerned.

The looks continued for three days. Spielberg didn't seem to be displeased with his performance, but neither did he seem enthused. Tom had little idea what to do other than take all direction and carry on. He had no idea how to broach the topic and clear the air, so to speak.

Finally, during a break for lighting rearrangement, the director came to him with a clap on the back.

"Tom, I have a favor to ask, kid."

"Of course, sir, how can I help?" He asked in his calmest, but hopefully still suitably eager to please, tone.

"Adi's been running herself ragged, didn't even have a day between her last indie film and starting here. This'll be her first weekend off in at least three months."

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir." And he was, truly. He knew what it was like to exhaust himself, taking every opportunity to build a career. "Is she doing alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, if you ask her, she's fine, but the girl deserves a few days. I insisted she come on this project because she's always loved London, do you mind showing her around this weekend?"

"I'd be delighted, sir," he smiled, internally letting out a breath. This wasn't the disaster for which he had been bracing himself. Although it did present the potential for a whole slew of new disasters. "Have you spoken to her about it, or..."

"Not yet, wanted to check that I have a willing tour guide--"

"Of course," Tom nodded.

"--so I'll have a chat with her about it at lunch, see if she doesn't just want to spend the whole weekend in bed," Spielberg laughed boisterously.

Tom joined in before adding, "Certainly can't blame her for it!"

"No, no, she's earned some time to herself. She should have weekends off from here on out, though, so maybe if not this weekend, the next?"

"I'll be delighted to show her around whenever she'd like, sir."

The man seemed happy with that answer. A good thing, considering that Tom was still harboring a bit of a crush.

Not that he thought this was in any way meant to be romantic, no, not at all, but he couldn't deny that he wanted to make good impressions on everyone involved.

"I'll let you know by tomorrow, then, see if she's up for this weekend or the next." Spielberg clapped Tom's shoulder again, just as the lighting crews were announcing their readiness for the next set.

Better yet, the pensive looks stopped, and Tom was able to confidently throw himself into the character for the first time all week.

All worries about the not-date he had agreed to were postponed until he could get home and think.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	6. Chapter 6

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Drinking was a British tradition that the American crew members had adopted rather enthusiastically. So enthusiastically, in fact, that it had become an integral part of filming in just two weeks.

Friday nights saw them all down at the local pub, a drink in every hand. Well, almost every hand. There were always the odd few who opted for pub nibbles. Rookie mistake, in Tom's opinion. Why eat piss-flavored food when you could simply drink the piss? And get pissed?

Getting pissed was the best part.

He was only two pints in when Emma arrived, so he was plenty aware enough to register the twenty-odd flashes that accompanied her entrance. She was still fumbling with her bag when she made it over to the crew's usual table.

Well, some say table. Some say over-running half the restaurant.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Adi asked, watching her still rummaging about.

"Yes! Yes," She answered quickly, glancing up from her work. "I took your advice and was just trying to put it away--"

Adi interrupted with a cackle. "Did you really? I'm very proud of you, sweetie."

Emma smiled. "Thanks. I'm really glad you gave me the idea."

Tom couldn't help himself. "What idea?"

Adi and Emma exchanged grins before Emma explained, "The photogs have been really precocious lately, and Adi suggested I whip out my UN badge whenever they're around."

"Near the face!" Adi chimed in, lifting her pint in a toast. "You want to make sure it's near the face at all times!"

They shared a giggle and Tom couldn't help but smile himself. Reminding people of her UN goals was an excellent way to divert the excess media attention she had been getting. 

"Round on me," he announced, getting up from the table, "to celebrate that fantastic idea."

He had barely made it to the counter when he felt a gentle touch at his shoulder and pleasant surprise at his company.

"Need a hand getting things back to the table?" Adi asked, tilting her head toward the barkeep.

The barkeep who had yet to acknowledge him.

"Not just yet," he smiled, reminding himself not to read anything into this. But damn if he didn't take all the time she wanted to give him. "Still waiting to order."

She smiled, and he thought that maybe she already knew that. He quickly attempted to quash all implications of the possibility.

"Need some company, then?"

Screw it, he was going the flirting route.

"Always from you, darling."

Her smile didn't fade as she turned, hoisting herself onto a barstool. "Tell me, Tom, how do you all drink so much here?"

A giggle escaped him before he could catch himself. "We've been training since primary?"

"That early?" She asked, somewhat scandalized.

This time he laughed to ease the shock. "Well, perhaps more the end of primary...and I may have been one of the more, erm, adventurous children."

She laughed at that. "I think I can imagine. But still, really drinking at thirteen?"

"Ehehehehe, primary here only goes up to eleven."

"That's horrible!" She let out before laughing and smacking him gently. "Well, I suppose growing up in a Jewish family, I've been drinking wine since I was barely a toddler--"

"Not the same as getting sloshed off your tits."

It was her turn to giggle madly. "The way you say things, Tom."

"So very British?" He asked, his lips answered her smile of their own accord. She hadn't yet pulled her hand from his arm, and he couldn't bring himself to remind her that she wasn't interested. "Charming? Old-hat? Quaint?"

"Silly," she finished definitively. "You are silly."

He shrugged, still smiling, when the barkeep finally made time for them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Their morning started rather beautifully at a small pastry shop just over two blocks from the production's hotel, where they breakfasted on far too many sweets and planned their day.

Adi had been to London before, and had little interest in the tourist hotspots, which Tom considered a blessing. The charm of the city wasn't in those places, really. He was glad of the opportunity to take her round the neighborhoods that truly had the quintissential feel of Ole-London Towne.

So after some smartphone consulting, he tucked her into his Jag and they headed off.

"I do want to take a picture in Trafalgar Square, though," Adi said. "And I will probably need you to play the photographer."  
\  
He smiled. "I can't make any promises, but I've become quite good with taking selfies."

She laughed. "Selfie King, huh? I might let your face in the picture, depends on how good you've been."

"Being good?" He pouted at her, but she frantically waved toward the road.

"Look at the road! Look at the road!"

"We're only going twenty kilometers," he answered, confused about her frantic concern, but still he resolutely turned both eyes back to the road in front of him.

She let out a breath, but he could sense that her eyes were still on his face, ensuring his acquiescence. "Sorry, I don't think I'll ever get used to being on the wrong side of the road."

"We're on the right side of the road," he goaded, pretending to be confused.

She took the bait, but he could hear her smile in her voice. "You're on the left, you know."

"Ah, so we are, you've got a point there," he teased openly now. "Although I don't think you'd like the result if I switched to the other side."

"No! No, this side is, uh, fine. I mean, you know, when in Rome."

"You're in England."

"You've got a point there," she laughed. "Alright, I'm going to trust you. Both your tour guide capabilities and your driving...uh...skills."

He couldn't believe it. She was actually taking the mickey. It was going to be a fantastic day. "I'll have you know it only took three tries to pass my driving test."

"Well that's a relief."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	7. Chapter 7

"You need to get on Twitter."

"Do I?" Tom asked his PA, setting the mobile to speaker while he flipped open his laptop. "What's happening there?"

"You are. I need you to tweet something because your fans are getting restless."

"My--what? I'm not sure what that means, Luke."

"Yeah, quick summary. There are photos of you with Emma and Adi all over the rags. They're spinning it into the most believable love triangle I've seen in a while."

His breath hitched slightly at the thought that Adi was involved. "How much do they know about Adi? What's happened with our statement?"

"About Adi? Nothing. Their photos are grainy at best, and she's covered her face nearly entirely with that hat and sunnies combo. The woman knew what she was doing."

Something about that made Tom frown, but he couldn't quite place it. He was thrilled that she wasn't identified-- 

"Unfortunately, some of your fans took the denial of the relationship between yourself and Emma as confirmation--"

"Seems a bit backward," Tom put in, relaxing now that Adi wasn't really involved.

"Well, it is what it is. Any fanbase has it's extreme personalities--"

"Enthusiastic," Tom cut in.

"Extreme," Luke corrected him, his tone clearly not in the mood to entertain the euphemism. "Now, Emma is adamant that she doesn't want you riding in on a white horse about the bullying--"

"Bullying?"

"Erm, yes. As I said, some of your fanbase took the denial as confirmation and, well, didn't take kindly to it."

"Luke, I can't just ignore that a good friend of mine is being bullied."

"Well, it's what she wants from you," Luke said, forced patience in his voice. "In fact, she's unhappy with the fact that I am even calling it bullying, she thinks I'm giving too much weight to this. Anonymous pests, she called them. To be honest, I think she's right in asking you to stay out of it, for now. And as your publicist, I have to advise that saying something now would undermine the statement that you are not together."

"Am I not allowed to defend a friend?"

"If it becomes a real problem, I will ask that you put out an anti-bullying message, but, as it is, she's an adult who can handle herself."

Tom tapped his keyboard in annoyance, "Alright, I suppose I can't argue."

"I'm asking you to help in a different way. Provide a distraction."

"Um..."

"That sight-seeing date with Adi--"

"It wasn't--"

"Do you have any individual selfies?" Luke cut him off, clearly not interested in the actual state of his love life. "Something that you can caption with 'Just enjoying   
being home.'"

"Erm," Tom said, waving his hands over his keyboard for a moment before deciding his laptop was useless. "I think I have a couple. I'll need to look through."

"Do that, and I'd like you to post one tomorrow."

"Do you honestly think that's all it will take to handle this?" Tom asked uncertainly. Far be it from him to truly understand this type of fanaticism, but he found it hard to believe that one photo would derail their actions.

"Emma doesn't need your help on that, Tom, she's more than capable of ignoring this kind of abuse." Luke's annoyed sigh came through the speaker. "What you both need is a positive redirection of these fans long before they can have any serious effects on your images or ticket sales." 

"Luke--"

"Look, I understand and share your instinct, but this is the correct way forward."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As a gentleman -- rather, a young gentleman in training -- Tom had been taught to always give high praise to any meal or refreshment offered him, and to   
never let any displeasure in the flavor show on his face.

It was a lesson which had been useful in innumerable instances, but he had never been so happy for it as he was on this set.

Because every morning, despite being assistant producer, Adi brought him tea.

And every morning, without fail, it was god-awful.

Regardless, the fact that she not only went out of her way to do this for him but also sat with him for ten minutes every morning meant that he was going to plaster a smile on his face and tell her it was the best tea in the entire goddamn world.

And it was, in a way, because it came with her smile and he could no longer deny that he was absolutely smitten.

Make no mistake, she had not gone back on her claim from that very first week. She still did not date actors. But he was beginning to have an inkling that she might, just might, be bending her rules a bit. 

He had admitted to himself that he was more than happy to be her accomplice.

But today he had to sully their quiet time with a serious concern. Having seen the rags at a corner stand in town, he immediately phoned Luke. They had only rung off about three seconds before Adi showed up at his trailer.

"Adi, I don't know if you've seen the rags--"

She cut him off with a hand, though her expression hadn't changed from the genial smile she usually wore in the morning. "Nothing to worry about, Tom, I know it comes with the territory."

"You're sure it doesn't bother you?" He asked in disbelief. "They've been getting rather obnoxious, if I'm honest."

She laughed lightly. "Again, it's part of the job and I get that. I wouldn't trade the day we had to erase some silly headlines."

Tom let himself smile, as she really didn't seem bothered. More than that, her comment sounded...promising. "Well, you'll be the first lady I've taken about town who didn't pay any attention to the cameras."

"Oooh, taken about the town? One more of your charming British phrases!" Her eyes twinkled and there was a teasing lilt to her voice, "You know my rule, Thomas."

He laughed back, making himself wait to answer. Rushing to reassure her would do anything but, he knew. Besides which, he needed a moment to recover from her use of his full name. There was absolutely no reason for that to send a shiver through him, but somehow...

"Oh, I know, darling. But the rags aren't nearly as accommodating as I am."

"Yeah, well, that's why I wore a floppy hat and giant sunglasses in the middle of fall."

"I like a woman who's prepared," he teased back, throwing her a wink.

"Speaking of prepared -- I'm amazing at segways, by the way -- I've got to run over for lighting checks."

"I'll head to make up, then. And thank you, as always, for the tea," he said, saluting her with the cardboard cup. 

He forced himself not to look back as he headed toward the makeup room. He sensed she was interested, despite all her protestation to the contrary. Regardless, he had to respect her desire to keep this platonic. 

Staring wistfully at her retreating figure certainly did not fit that bill.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


End file.
